nap"less"time

My child has boycotted sleep today. I know it’s a common tale. But not common enough to make it a simple thing. What’s common does not equate simplicity. A familiar story doesn’t make it any less than what it truly is: tiring, depleting, sigh….. It’s that kind of day. Relatable. Difficult, nonetheless.

My poor child has found exhaustion and can’t get over it to the beautiful tides of sleep. I, however, could now, at 6:30pm, drift into bliss without a pause. This comfy couch, dim lit room, and then those brief moments of stillness between her fusses welcome and tempt the tired mind. I am tired. Not just my mind. And the still interrupted by the fuss accentuates the fact.

There’s a journal to my right, barely touched; penning prayers is rather difficult in this tired moment. My Bible tops it, even another book lies to my left, neither of which I can gather the kind of concentration to read. So I’m sitting. And every time a pause amidst the crying extends one second, and then another, until it gapes with my hopes that the quiet will stay, I long to sink into the calm. Many times I’m dismayed to find it doesn’t last at all. And my poor little girl goes on with her song of exhaustion. But now… perhaps this time will last.

It didn’t.

(written before, frequently applies)